[cancer] Field notes from cancerland redux

The price of timing

Yesterday when Lisa Costello took me in for my Neulasta shot, the nurse quizzed me about when we had disconnected the pump on Sunday. Apparently if I get the shot less than 24 hours after the pump runs out, this compromises the therapeutic value. Insurance will not cover the payment, and I get billed $5,000. Wowzers. Especially since I’m not the one who schedules the shot.

GI restarts suck no matter when they come

This time, the GI restart happened the same day I came off the pump. Which is very weird. I am in a lot of discomfort, but no less than I’d be waiting two or three days for restart. I think the immediate issue is that I didn’t get a day or two of rest. Not how I’ve ever thought of severe constipation before: as a rest day. As I said yesterday, some folks would complain if you hanged them with a new rope.

In which I am very ashamed of myself

Yesterday in the waiting area of the oncology clinic, there were several people who were medically compromised, socially intrusive and apparently unselfaware. As chemo deepens, this is what I turn into. (C.f. my recent comments about being “the other weirdo” in my therapist’s waiting room. [ jlake.com | LiveJournal ]) Realizing I am on my way once again to becoming that person makes me angry and ashamed, which is an ego problem of mine, and a very unfair judgment on my fellow patients. I am not proud of myself for those resentful thoughts — I don’t want to be like him — but they are real, and I am responsible for what I think and feel. Another erosion of my character in the face of cancer stress.

Waiting room etiquette is a minefield; many years ago I spent time in one which served two clinics. One was for oncology and the other infertility; I never knew whether someone was sobbing because they had just been told that they were terminally ill, or because they had just been told that they could not have children.
And having noted that I would add that this is one area in which I think men have a harder road; there is cultural acceptance of women sobbing. That doesn’t, on the whole, extend to men sobbing and I think that is profoundly unfair…

I think you’re being too hard on yourself, man. You are sick, you are not yourself. You’ve got enough on your plate without worrying about how you appear to other people – many of whom are probably as unaware of you as they are of their own social faux pas.